Red Tide: The Flavel House Horror / Vampires of the Morgue (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 2) (2 page)

Yesterday:

Charlie … Ian … have either of you read today’s Oregonian? There’s a weird story on the second page. Seems Astoria, Oregon is dealing with some kind of vampire cult that’s moved in and opened some kind of underground club. They call themselves sanguinarians. Sounds like they’re under some suspicion regarding a number of unexplained deaths … likely murders. It says here that bodies have shown up totally drained of blood! Reminds me of what’d been going on around here.

Ian reminisced regarding what Jenny Hovermire had spoken about back at Harmony Falls. It had done more than merely intrigue him. It had motivated Ian to pay a visit to the small city located at the mouth of the mighty Columbia River. That was dealing with some big problems that at least at face value appeared to be right up his alley.

“Well, boy, looks like we’ve made it. Welcome to Astoria. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be glad to get out and stretch my legs. I’m getting a little hungry. You probably are too, huh boy? Say, since I’ve got a few coins in my pocket since Charlie squared me up, how ‘bout I spring for some lunch at a restaurant? I know what you’re thinking. I spend too much money eating out. Yeah, you’re right about that. This will be the last time for a while. Say, maybe later this evening, we’ll spot us a nice grocery store and stock up on some groceries. This is nice. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone to talk to while on the road. You’re not much of a conversationalist. But you sure are a good listener, aren’t you, fella?”

Ian petted Scout’s head. Scout wagged his tail and panted happily. They were bonding fast.

Ian and Scout were heading through downtown Astoria. “Look boy, there’s a nice-looking restaurant just up ahead. And by that I mean it looks nice enough for the likes of me. Not too expensive, if you know what I mean. But no dive either. Scout, it’s called
Pigs-In-A-Blanket.
With a name like that, it’s gotta be good, right? You know, just like that jelly. With a name like
Smucker’s,
it’s gotta be good! I always thought that was funny, like the word Smucker’s sounds good.” Ian laughed at his levity. Scout barked his approval at the humor.

“Okay then, boy. I’ll tell you what. You’re gonna stay here in the Jeep. I’ll crack a window for ya. When I get back, I’ll have a little surprise for you. Maybe some bacon or sausage. How’s that sound, boy?” Scout barked once loudly as if he understood completely.

Ian pulled his Jeep and trailer into the far back of the restaurant parking lot so as not to block any traffic.

“All right then. You keep guard of all my worldly possessions. I won’t be long. Hey, while I’m inside, maybe I’ll get a good tip on a nearby campground or RV park. One that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. One that takes shaggy guests like yourself. Okay … there, the windows cracked just a little ‘cause it looks like it could start raining any time. It’s pretty windy and cold, so I know you won’t get overheated. I do hate to leave you just when we’ve started getting to know one another. The worst part is you don’t understand much, if any, of what I’m saying. Well, if somehow you can understand – just know I will try and be fast. You be a good boy while I’m gone.”

Ian climbed out of his Jeep and locked its doors. He then walked across the parking lot and into the restaurant.

Once inside, Ian looked around until he spotted a sign that said, “Seat Yourself.”
He did just that and immediately picked up a menu and began looking it over.

Hmm … Breakfast served twenty-four hours a day. Nice. The “Pacific Coast Special” breakfast: Two farm fresh eggs, your choice of either three slices of bacon or three sausage links, hash browns and toast: $8.99. Well now, that sounds perfect.

Ian looked up over his menu and noticed his server was waiting with a smile on her face. “Can I get you some coffee or something to drink while you decide what you’ll be having?”

Ian noticed the pretty young woman’s name badge.

“Hello, Jennifer. I’ll have a large tomato juice and the Pacific Coast Special breakfast … for lunch, that is.”

Jennifer smiled. “Good choice … Sausage or bacon?”

Ian paused for a second. “Uh, bacon.”

Jennifer continued, “What type of toast would you like?”

Ian thought about that one for a couple of seconds before he replied. “Sourdough.”

Jennifer smiled and made her notes on her order pad. “Oh, and how would you like your eggs?”

Ian returned a smile to Jennifer. “Over hard would be great. Say, Jennifer, have you lived here in Astoria long?”

Jennifer looked at Ian with a slightly surprised look on her face as she replied, “No, sir. I’ve been staying … I’ve been house sitting for my aunt and uncle for a couple months while they were traveling. But they just got back this week. I was living before, and will be returning to, Seattle. I got this job about a month ago. You know, seasonal help. And actually, today’s my last day. This job ending actually worked out perfect, timing wise. ‘Cause I just got a letter of acceptance a few days ago to the nursing program at the University of Washington
in Seattle. That’s where my parents live. Anyway, I’ve been working here and there for the last couple of years saving what I can for school. Oh my gosh … I’ve practically told you my life story.” Jennifer began to blush.

Ian held up his hand, gesturing that it was quite all right as he smiled. “No, no, it’s good to hear your plans are working out for you. Say, one more question. What do you know about a new nightclub in town? I’ve heard it’s sort of a place where … I don’t know … kind of attracts, what’s the word? Goth people, and persons interested in the occult … or … uh … let’s just say alternative lifestyles. I’m doing some research … some investigation you might say … and …”

Jennifer flashed Ian a sly grin as she half-rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you don’t look the type that goes there. But you’re talking about … you described the new club in town called The Morgue. That place is just a couple blocks from here. Down on the wharf … the waterfront. Pier Thirteen I think? I’ve never been there. I mean I’ve been by it. I’ve never been inside. But I’ve heard stories. It’s a real creepy spot. The city’s been trying to shut it down ever since it opened last June. But I hear the owner has deep pockets and has powerful lawyers and all that. Anyway, he’s been able to keep the place going even with all the local church groups and negative press and the like. You’re right. The place attracts lots of Goths and, you know, all those vampire poser types. Real freaks, some of them. I’m surprised there’s enough people into that sort of thing in this little town to keep a place like that going. I mean, maybe in Portland or Seattle … but Astoria?”

“But I guess people come from all over to go there. Probably mostly weirdos from Portland.”

Jennifer covered her mouth and blushed slightly as she glanced around, checking to see if she had offended any listening ears before continuing. “Well, I’m no one to judge. Different strokes and all that. But that place is not my thing if you know what I mean. Not at all.”

Ian smiled and shook his head in agreement. “Yeah, I hear that. Not my cup of tea either. It’s just … well … like I said, I’m doing a little research.”

Jennifer smiled. “What are you, some kind of private investigator or undercover cop?”

Ian took a deep breath; then, with a Cheshire Cat-like sly expression on his face, winked at Jennifer as he replied, “Something like that. Say … do you know the name of the person who owns or runs the club?”

Jennifer giggled. “Yeah, but it’s gonna cost you. In the form of a good tip, that is. Good information doesn’t come cheap around these parts.”

Ian laughed, “No, I don’t suppose it does. If the food here turns out to be half as pleasant as the conversation, you’ll be well compensated.”

Jennifer laughed. “Good, ‘cause a girl’s got to pay for her schooling somehow, right? His name’s – and you’re gonna love this – I read in the paper that his name’s Vladimir Drago Salizzar. Doesn’t Drago mean dragon or something like that?”

Ian smiled and nodded a silent yes. Jennifer continued, “Molly said people just call him Salizzar. Now doesn’t that sound just like out of a movie or something? I’ve never seen him myself. But the girl, Molly, who used to work here? She told me he’s like out of this world good looking. Long, black hair that he keeps pulled back in a bushy pony tail, dark eyes, and a perfect, though really pale, complexion. She said he talks with some sort of European accent. She said he even … and get this …” Jennifer paused once again to look around to make sure no other ears were listening. None were. “He, like, wears eyeliner, red lip gloss, and clear nail polish. But Molly said he didn’t seem gay. Maybe bisexual. How weird is that? I mean sure, in a big city, but around here in a town of mostly loggers and fishermen? The guy wears make-up. No wonder nobody ever sees him during the day. Looking like that in this town, he’d probably get beat up. But I guess somehow it works for him ‘cause Molly said he’s like totally hot. Anyway, I almost went with her once to check him … to check that club out. But the whole thing sort of freaked me out. I backed out at the last minute. I never got a second chance to go with her ‘cause soon after, she just never showed up for work anymore. That was a few weeks ago. She was like me. Not from around here. She probably got fed up with small town living and all the rain and moved back home or wherever. She was from somewhere back east. Chicago, I think?”

Ian interrupted, “Say Jennifer, do you know of any good campgrounds or RV parks close by?”

Jennifer suddenly got a very thoughtful expression on her face as she gently tapped her pen against her cheek. “Of course there’s lots of camping near the beaches, but on this side of the river? Hmm … Warrenton I think would be the closest. Then there’s Seaside and Canon Beach further away, but not very far. I’d guess around a twenty to thirty minute drive from here. Oh, and there’s lots of places across the bridge over at Ilwaco and around Long Beach, which is really nice. They’re probably about the same distance away. Maybe a bit closer, around a twenty minute drive I’d guess. But real close. Hmm … near to town here … I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any.”

Ian smiled and extended his right hand. “Jennifer, my name is Ian McDermott. It’s been my pleasure to meet you. I want to thank you for all the information. Oh, and good luck with school.” Jennifer responded likewise, and they shook hands cordially.

Jennifer smiled brightly, “Nice to meet you, Ian. My last name’s Dowling.”

Ian smiled as he asked, “Jennifer, do you ever go by Jenny?” Jennifer looked at him with a slightly surprised look on her face as she responded to his provocative question.

“Yeah, actually … my family and friends call me Jenny. Why do you ask?”

Ian grinned as he replied, “Oh, no reason. It’s just you remind me a bit of a very nice gal who works for a friend of mine in a town I just came from. That, and Jenny just seems to fit you.”

Jennifer smiled and left to turn Ian’s order in to the kitchen. Ian’s food came just a few minutes later. It was good – very good. Before leaving, Ian wrapped a couple pieces of bacon that he’d saved in a napkin and put them in his coat pocket. He then left a sizeable tip at the table for Jennifer, the aspiring nurse.

After exiting the restaurant, as Ian headed back to his near-vintage Jeep Wagoneer, Scout spotted Ian and started barking happily.

Ian unlocked the door of the Jeep and began petting Scout, who had been a very good boy. Nothing was chewed on or disturbed in any way.

Ian retrieved the napkin-wrapped bacon from his coat pocket and gave it to his very appreciative companion. He then put a leash on Scout and walked him to an abandoned lot just across the street from the restaurant parking lot. Scout did his business, then they returned to the Jeep.

“Okay boy, next order of business. Keep your eyes peeled for a print shop of some kind.”

Ian and Scout drove out of the restaurant parking lot and proceeded up the road to the main street of Astoria.

Ian glanced for a second over at Scout. “There. Right over there. Scout, do you see it? It’s just ahead on the right: a FedEx-Kinko’s. They do good work, and fast. I’m gonna have them make up some business cards for us. How does Ian and Scout’s Investigations sound?”

Scout let out a groan, then yawned.

“Oh, I suppose you’d prefer Scout and Ian’s …?” Ian chuckled as he shook his head.

Scout, as if he understood every word Ian was saying, wagged his tail and barked three times.

Ian glanced at Scout once again. He looked into the bright eyes of his four-legged friend, and he couldn’t help smiling. Then, trying to put his game face on, Ian took a deep breath and exhaled as he spoke, “All right, seriously Scout. What would sound good?”

After much contemplation, Ian began ascending from the depths of his thought. Then, with a grin on his face, he exclaimed out loud, “Scout, I’ve got it. I think we’re gonna have to go with Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigations.”

CHAPTER 1

Oscar’s on the Ocean

Present Day:

Upon raising his head from his pillow, Ian discovered a terrible knot that had set up camp overnight within the deep recesses of the back of his neck. It was coupled with gnawing muscle spasms. All the stretching he attempted just seemed to result in further inflaming the condition.

It’s no wonder
, Ian silently mused as he mustered a half-smirk,
with all that I endured hiking all over hill and dale back up around Mt. Saint Helen’s and those damn Ape-Caves.

Ian then shuddered, bowed, and shook his head at the thought of it all. He suddenly became very somber as he pondered his latest exploits. He couldn’t help but get misty-eyed as he thought of all those lives lost or altered forever by the gruesome events back at Harmony Falls. Ian thought long and hard of the victims, their families and friends, the lives horrifically snuffed out or forever altered by the malicious course of events.

Ian himself had personally lost in that ordeal a person he greatly admired: Sheriff Bud O’Brien. But with that, along with the subsequent chain of events, he’d gained a close friend in Sheriff’s Deputy Charlie Redtail. His bond with Charlie, Ian surmised, was the only thing good that came of it all. Well, that … and ridding the world of a terrible “Monster.” Ian actually laughed nervously at that very thought. Even as he thought about it, the whole thing seemed utterly outrageous and totally unbelievable. Ian actually had to remind himself that he wasn’t crazy. That it was all true, every horrific moment.
I saw that thing with my own two eyes. And God help me, I helped kill him … I mean … it.

Ian had to think of the thing as an it, not a him, or he didn’t know if he could live with the guilt, regardless of what he knew to be all too true.

What he was suffering from, though he didn’t recognize it, was post-traumatic stress, both mentally and physically. His body and mind were sending him messages loud and clear that it was time to relax and chill out.

As Ian lay staring up at the roof of his trailer, wiping the sleep from his eyes, he took a deep gasp of air and let out a sigh as he thought to himself,
Relax … breathe. Wow … I might be more stressed out than I thought. Maybe I should take some time off? Hmm, hopefully after I’ve finished checking out what I came here for. Relax … If it were only that simple.

Just then, while Ian was contemplating what his first move of the day would be, Scout bounded over to him and put his right paw up onto Ian’s chest and then began licking Ian’s cheek. Scout was exceedingly appreciative that his master had finally fully awakened from his restless tossing and turning, which had gone on most of the night.

Now sitting up, Ian pulled back the curtains of the picture window at the foot of the bed. It afforded a beautiful view of dune grass, scrub pines, and just a bit more than a sliver of a view of the ocean.

“Look out there, Scout,” Ian pointed out the window to the ocean beyond. “You’d have to pay big bucks at a fancy motel to get a view like this, wouldn’t ya, fella?” Ian stroked the top of his best friend’s head.

“What the hell’s the name of this place? It’s something … Oscar. Oh yeah, Oscar’s on the Ocean. The owner, Oscar, what a character. You should have heard him, boy. When I was checking us in, he went on and on about way back when he had his own fishing boat and commercially fished out of the Port of Ilwaco. What’d he say his last name was? Manly? No, that’s not it. Mallory? Yeah, that’s it. Oscar Mallory.” He laughed just a little at the thought of the old sea-dog ex-fisherman and how he went on and on about the good ole days.

Ian continued talking to his furry friend, “Well anyway, boy, this place lives up to its name. Oscar’s on the Ocean. If we were camped very much closer to the ocean, we’d just about be floating in the surf.”

Scout inched his way in a slow climb up into bed and then lay alongside his human. Ian didn’t mind one bit.

Ian began petting Scout as he spoke, “Well boy, what shall we do first? We’ve got to seize the day. Carpe diem. We need to cross back over the bridge to Astoria and try and get some work done. See what we can dig up on this Salizzar guy.”
Ian silently mused,
Dig up. That’s a good one.

Ian reached over to a small attached wall-desk, grabbing a small box and retrieving from it a few business cards. “These cards look great. See Scout, I told you that FedEx-Kinko’s
did good work. Maybe I should have included your name on the card? What do ya think, boy?” Scout wagged his tail and barked twice.

Ian also grabbed a map and some pamphlets and brochures of the Long Beach Peninsula that Oscar had as giveaways at the RV office.

Taking a cursory glance through some of the printed material of the area, Ian then began looking closely at the map, all the while pointing to various destinations as he read out loud to Scout.

“Okay, it says here on the front of this thing that the Long Beach Peninsula is an arm of land bordered on the west by the Pacific Ocean and to its south by the Columbia River. To its east is Willipa Bay, and to its northernmost tip is Leadbetter Point State Park and the Willipa National Wildlife Refuge. Cape Disappointment State Park is at the southernmost end. Just north of where we are now is the Pacific Pines State Park. Wow! This area sure has its share of state parks, huh, boy? Lighthouses, post-war forts, and museums, oh my. Anyway, it shows on the map that we’re here. That puts us about half-way up the peninsula at … Let’s see, yeah … We’re at the Klipsan Beach area near the Cranberry Road beach access. Got that?” Ian’s reading glasses nearly slipped off of his nose as he looked over the map and smiled at Scout.

“Hey boy … looks like we’re pretty close to a good fresh water fishing lake. Maybe we should take my pole over there and wet a line? Loomis Lake … and go figure, there’s another state park. Loomis Lake State Park. That’s right across the street from the lake.”

Momentarily satisfied with what he’d learned from his map and tourist pamphlets, Ian slowly climbed out of bed and began attempting to loosen his neck, with no success. After also stretching his arthritic back a couple of times, he then did two deep knee-bends, straightened himself, and proceeded to shuffle his way over to the trailer’s semblance of a kitchen. Ian drew some water from the kitchen faucet, hoping to find it at least semi-potable. He filled his coffee mug of choice, the one with the picture of Big Foot
on its front.

Ian scooped into his now two-thirds-filled mug of water his typical ration of too much out-of-date powdered grounds. He then placed his overfilled mug into his one fairly-new appliance: a shiny black Hamilton Beach
microwave. In mere moments, he produced a steamy mug of instant sludge, which he generally referred affectionately to as a cup, or in this case mug, of “ole Joe.”

Ian said aloud as he grimaced while trying to endure his first sip. “Yeah boy. That’s the stuff!” He took another sip and nearly choked. “Okay. This is no good.” Ian laughed a small laugh then looked at Scout as he spoke while pouring the remainder of his mug down the sink. “It’s definitely time to pick up some new coffee, boy.”

Ian set his mug in the sink then proceeded to get dressed. Once dressed, he and Scout bounded out of the trailer.

He opened the driver side door of his Jeep. Without hesitation, Scout jumped in and moved over to the passenger seat where he set himself tall.

“So you’ve got your own seat, do you?” Ian couldn’t help grinning ear-to-ear as he noted how happy Scout was to be in the Jeep, to be heading out on the road. Ian loved the alertness, intelligence, and confidence Scout exuded in all the seemingly little things that he did. The truth was, he felt more secure himself having Scout along with him. Even though Ian hadn’t had Scout long, he loved everything about his dog.

Ian glanced over at Scout. “You must be on some kind of big-time growing spurt. You look to me like you’ve gained size and weight in just these last coupla days. You’re a big, tough guy, aren’t ya?” Scout barked loudly one time. He wagged his tail as he momentarily stood up on all fours before settling back down in a sitting position. He was beginning to wonder if his dog was some kind of a K-9
genius with the way Scout seemed to understand just about everything Ian said to him. Occasionally, it also seemed to Ian that all he needed to do was think about something, and Scout would act or react accordingly, as if there was some kind of psychic link between them.

Despite his restless night, Ian was becoming energized just anticipating the day ahead. He had disconnected his old Jeep Wagoneer from his even older Airstream trailer upon his arrival to Oscar’s on the Ocean yesterday. He really wanted to get a quick start the next day.

As Ian and Scout began driving out of the RV park heading south, back towards the town of Long Beach, Ian glanced down for a second at a time at his unfolded map of the peninsula that he’d laid on his lap. He and Scout were driving on Highway 103, the peninsula’s one main road – the one road that ran the entire twenty-six mile jaunt north to south, end to end. From the fishing town of Ilwaco, which was located on the extreme south-end of the peninsula at the mouth of the Columbia River, all the way north to the town of Ocean Park.

Ian noted that just above the town of Ocean Park was a housing community called Seaside Estates. It was the northernmost inhabitable area of the peninsula. He also made note that once they’d driven past downtown Long Beach, he could take a side road that would prevent them from having to drive into Ilwaco. As Ian plotted his course, he saw that he’d be going through a little town called Chinook. From Chinook, it looked like only another five or so miles east to the bridge that crossed over the Columbia River to Astoria, Oregon.

Ian pulled his Jeep over to the side of the road. He’d become enthralled with the map of the area and decided to take a good, long look at it. As Ian studied the map to better orient himself, he started taking mental stock of what he knew versus what he didn’t.

He knew that the Pacific Ocean was less than a few football fields west from the highway they were on. He also knew that if they were to head east on most any connected road, it would lead to Willapa Bay. Ian thought to himself that he’d love to take the time soon to drive the entire peninsula just to see what could be seen. Last night while he was perusing through some information pamphlets regarding the places to see and things to do, he’d been especially intrigued by a small pioneer township formed in the 1800’s. Oysterville was located on the northern Willapa Bay
side of the peninsula. It was famous for its namesake: oysters. Ian prided himself on being a consummate consumer aficionado regarding devouring and subsequently evaluating a plate of fresh, lightly-battered and seasoned pan-fried oysters.

Ian put away his map and pulled out onto the road heading to the town of Long Beach. After less than ten minutes, he and Scout were driving through the main downtown area. As he drove, Ian admired the many different gift shops and clothing stores, restaurants, bakeries, candy shops and such that lined both sides of the main street for an area that spanned a couple of blocks.

Ian was somewhat startled as he noticed that many of the stores and shops were all decorated for Halloween as he mused,
I’ve got to start paying attention to what’s going on in the world, beyond just my work.

Ian was especially intrigued by a store on his right called
Marsh’s Free Museum
.

“Scout, we’ve got to make time to check that place out. Looks strange from the outside. Imagine what might be inside.” Ian chuckled at that thought.

Moments later, just about a mile south down the road, Ian noticed from another glance at his map that he’d soon be making a turn to the left. It would be easy finding his way to the bridge that crossed the Columbia over to Astoria from there. He also noted that to the right was a sub-area of Long Beach called Seaview.

“I tell you, Scout, for a relatively small area, this peninsula sure is chock full of little townships.” Scout didn’t bark but glanced momentarily over at Ian, his head bobbing a bit up and down as his body swayed from side to side, primarily due to the Jeep’s worn-out shocks. It appeared to Ian as though Scout was nodding in agreement.

After leaving the Long Beach area and before reaching the little town of Chinook, Ian smiled as he spoke, “Look, boy. On your side, those red-colored swampy fields … Those are cranberry bogs.
That’s something you don’t see every day. Well, unless you live here I guess. Funny, I didn’t notice them when we came through here yesterday.”

Ian prided himself on his keen powers of observation, a necessary trait in what had been his line of work. It was absolutely essential in his new endeavor as a private investigator of sorts.

“Another thing I bet ya don’t see often around here, especially this time of year anyway, is two straight days without rain.” Ian glanced through his windshield up at the sky. It was completely cloud-covered, but it didn’t look too ominous. The cloud cover was thick yet mostly light gray. There was very little wind, not much more than a breeze, but Ian noticed it was blowing from the south where there were some dark clouds beginning to form.

Ian guessed the darkening sky to be maybe thirty to fifty miles or so south of his position, across the Columbia over in Oregon. He glanced once again at the sky first through his windshield, then leaned to look further south out the passenger side window. His head nearly touched Scout’s, who leaned towards Ian and lightly licked his right cheek.